Rev. Ike Positively Glitters on Crusade

There’s a shiny black Rolls-Royce in the parking lot, and a blue and gold one searching for a space on the street. This has got to be the place.

So you enter the glass-skinned office building and ride the elevator to the headquarters of KSDO radio. It’s just past 9 a.m., time for the “Dave Dawson Show,” and there’s Dawson in the studio, talking with the man you have come to see. The first look at the Rev. Frederick J. Eikerenkoetter II--known to millions as “Rev. Ike”--does not disappoint.

The black evangelist is wearing a snappy white jacket trimmed in green, emblazoned on the back with the words “Rev. Ike’s 1985 $ummer Tour.” His complexion is smooth, the color of caramel, and a thin mustache lines his upper lip. His hair is coiffed back, tiny curls glistening with oil. He is adorned with a gold watch, a silver-and-diamond tie pin, a silver bracelet, and a large gold ring studded with maybe 15 diamonds. At least, you assume it’s all gold and silver and diamonds--those Rolls-Royces are real.

“Remember that Jesus rode on the Rolls-Royce of his day, which was a borrowed ass,” Rev. Ike is telling Dawson and the radio listeners. “And I’m sure if Rolls-Royces were available then, Jesus would have used them.”

A commercial break, time for introductions. Rev. Ike is smiling and genial, his voice a soft Southern lilt. “All publicity is good publicity,” he says. “Just as long as they spell the name right!”

His laugh is a fast “ha ha ha ha ha.”

Rev. Ike--the 49-year-old founder of the United Church, Science of Living Institute Inc., one of the premier “televangelists” of all time, a man often criticized as a charlatan who is ha ha ha-ing all the way to the bank--is making a comeback.

It’s not that he ever stopped spreading his particular brand of think-positive, prosperity-is-your-divine-right theology; indeed, his current stay in San Diego is his third such visit here in three years.

But the peak of Rev. Ike’s fame, as he acknowledges, occurred in the mid- to-late 1970s. According to a 1975 New York Times article, 1,770 radio stations across the nation broadcast Rev. Ike’s daily messages, and his videotaped sermons appeared in 10 major television markets. He toured the nation like a soul-music star, attracting thousands to his sermons.

While his enemies say Rev. Ike is a greedy sham, there is no doubting that many people found hope in his messages. His “congregation” in the mid-1970s was estimated as 2.5 million--mostly black, but with a wide ethnic representation. Contributions to his church, according to his accountant, totaled millions of dollars, supporting Rev. Ike’s opulent life style, including a bi-coastal collection of Rolls-Royces.

The cash flow has never slowed down, he asserts. But for a while, Rev. Ike did. Maintaining his ministry through the mail and over the radio, Rev. Ike says he voluntarily withdrew from TV and touring to devote most of the past five years to teaching in the school at his home-base church in the Washington Heights section of Manhattan, where some 5,000 people regularly attend Sunday services. “It’s just something I wanted to do,” he says.

Meanwhile, the mushrooming cable TV industry helped other evangelists rise in prominence, including Revs. Jerry Falwell, Jimmy Swaggert and Pat Robertson--and San Diego’s Rev. Terry Cole-Whittaker, the recently retired preacher whose vocal celebration of material wealth is a virtual echo of Rev. Ike’s own.

But now, Rev. Ike is on the road again. He is test-marketing a new TV show called “The Joy of Living” co-hosted by his Ivy League-student son, Xavier, 20, also known as Rev. Ike II.

Joint appearances with Cole-Whittaker--or Rev. Terry, as she was known to followers--is what had brought Rev. Ike to San Diego in recent years. Now that Rev. Terry has retired, Rev. Ike has returned to offer a deliverance of sorts to her congregation, and provide a home for their orphaned donations.

Indeed, the people coordinating and publicizing his stay in San Diego are former devotees of the Rev. Terry who came to know Rev. Ike during the evangelists’ joint appearances. Today, Rev. Ike will deliver a sermon titled “Money! Sex! and Religion! The Three Hang-ups of Mankind!” at 11 a.m. at Golden Hall in downtown San Diego. Admission is free.

“You don’t have to pay to get in Sunday morning,” Rev. Ike says. “You only pay to get out! . . . Ha ha ha ha ha!” Rev. Ike will be sure to ask for contributions--and those who will proudly hand over $100 or more might be asked to step forward for recognition.

A seminar titled “Remove Your Roadblocks to Money, Prosperity and Happiness!” will be held Monday night at Golden Hall. For that, you pay $15 to get in.

Saturday is a day off. An aide said that Rev. Ike would be looking at real estate. He is thinking of setting up a residence in San Diego, the aide explained, another of many around the country.

Dave Dawson opens up the phone lines so Rev. Ike can take questions from listeners. The number of testimonials from callers, telling how Rev. Ike’s teachings and prayer cloths have made their lives so heavenly, sound suspicious. Rev. Ike is slipping in plugs for the sermons and seminar.

But there are nine phone lines, all lighted up and answered at random. If these phone calls are plants, there must be plenty. And besides, there are several skeptical callers as well, challenging Rev. Ike on his version of Christianity. One joker asks whether Rev. Ike keeps Grey Poupon mustard in his Rolls. Rev. Ike gamely retorts that he would be afraid to spill the mustard on the mink rug--”Ha ha ha ha ha!”

Dawson asks Rev. Ike if he believes that God answers personal prayers.

“I see you pointing up,” the preacher tells Dawson. “I believe God is within you. When you pray, it’s not that something comes down from the sky. It’s that you release this unlimited God power that is within you. Jesus said, ‘The Father that dwells within me does the work.’ ”

This is a cornerstone of Rev. Ike’s philosophy. Authorities on religion say he has placed a personal twist on the positive-thinking postulates of Dale Carnegie and Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, calling for people to believe in themselves. “To me, faith itself--self-confidence--is God,” Rev. Ike says. Instead of ending prayers with “amen,” his followers typically intone, “Thank you, God in me.”

It can be a powerful message. Rev. Ike, who was raised in poverty in South Carolina, has touted himself as “the first black man in America to preach positive self-image psychology to the black masses within a church setting.”

And what better way to achieve a positive self-image, Rev. Ike asks, than to make large donations to a church? Preferably, of course, Rev. Ike’s church.

“You see, the first person that giving helps is the giver. . . . There’s something magic about giving,” he explains later. “And if you give to the ministry, you’re helping the ministry help people.”

A woman wants to know Rev. Ike’s opinion of the New Testament story about the rich young ruler who approached Jesus and was advised to rid himself of material wealth.

“I interpret that he was to sell out all his worldly and materialistic opinions,” Rev. Ike declares. “Get rid of the idea that his life depends on materiality, and accept the idea that life is spiritually based.”

“Do you in any way identify with this rich young man, Rev. Ike?” the caller asks.

“No, I don’t, because I know that the basis of my success and prosperity is spirit, is God--the God within me,” he declares. “I’m not worshiping these things; these things serve me. . . . I’m not serving my money; my money is serving me. And I’m doing good with it.”

The show is over, and Rev. Ike is joined by two aides in business suits and two former Cole-Whittaker devotees, Carol Sue Chamberlain and Scott Murray, who are also wearing the Rev. Ike $ummer Tour jackets and coordinating his visit. It’s time for breakfast, and you have the choice of following the entourage to a restaurant in your Japanese import or riding along with Rev. Ike in the big black Rolls. It is not a difficult decision.

Plush is the word. Sure enough, a mink quilt serves as a rug. The beige cloth interior is decorated with small paintings by the passengers’ ears, and a small cut-glass vase at one side holds fresh flowers. There is a gold rope across the back of the driver’s seat, and a small cabinet that, when opened, reveals two crystal decanters and four wine glasses--but the decanters happen to be empty. Rev. Ike hits a switch and a panel of glass rises from the front seat to provide privacy.

The conversation rambles. Rev. Ike talks about how he used to shield his wife from the spotlight. But that is starting to change. Last month, for the first time, a photo of the two of them together appeared in the press, in Jet magazine.

They have been married since 1964. Throughout that time, there have been rumors that Rev. Ike has many mistresses--rumors that he does not discourage. “If you want to know how many how many mistresses I have,” he said in a 1976 interview, “I’m not going to tell you.”

“I still stand by that!” he says. “Ha ha ha ha ha!”

How does he respond to those who say he is greedy and exploitive?

“I learned how to give when I was in poverty. . . . And I practice systematic giving the same as I teach the people. And I see it blessing people all the time.”

But Rev. Ike doesn’t say, specifically, which causes he supports, or how much money he gives. “I’m a private giver. . . . But I’m constantly doing it.”

(Later, he says in response to direct questioning that his church is assisting in famine relief efforts in Africa “on an unpublicized level. Those people should be fed and taught,” he says. “Their minds should be reprogrammed.”)

“This whole ministry is giving,” he continues. “You know, that’s another thing people miss a lot of times. I’ve given more than $50,000 into my coming here. Hopefully, it will be a profitable experience, because I believe everything should be profitable. . . . Nobody guaranteed me anything before I came here.”

The restaurant is packed, so the retinue waits in the lobby. Rev. Ike is talking about the 18 pounds he has jogged and dieted away and the complete $50,000 dental reconstruction he is having done. It’s not that the doctor told him to lose weight or the dentist told him his teeth were going, he says. The reason? “Vanity.”

Rev. Ike explains that the secret to his success is not merely fund-raising, but fund-management.

“We are very astute money handlers. Two Mondays ago, I had meetings with three of our money managers. . . . I did ask them quietly if we had anything in South Africa--Ha ha ha ha.

“I’m not going to tell you the answer--Ha ha ha ha.”

Later, he says, “Well, there was nothing identifiably.”

He changes the subject.

“Well, anyway, I was telling you about the meeting with money managers. I tried some new money managers three years ago, so they came to give me a report the other day. One management team had increased what I gave them 76%, and the other 44%. So I fired the 44% and hired somebody else to take over that particular amount.”

A few heads are turning in the restaurant. In a span of 20 minutes, three admirers come up to shake Rev. Ike’s hand and speak with him. A black woman with a star-struck look tells Rev. Ike how her father used to tell her to watch him on TV. A husky black man says he’s been trying for years to get a copy of one of Rev. Ike’s many motivational cassette tapes ($8 each)--the one titled “Get Your ‘But’ Out of the Way.”

Finally a table is ready. Rev. Ike, taking a break from his diet, orders pancakes with strawberry syrup and a side order of ham. The talk turns to religion, about how Rev. Ike “corrected” the Apostle Paul’s maxim, “The love of money is the root of all evil,” to “the lack of money is the root of all evil.”

He is asked about Matthew 19:24, “It is a easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of God.”

“Yeah, so if it’s that difficult for a rich man to get into heaven, think how terrible it must be for a poor man to get in! Ha ha ha ha ha! He doesn’t even have a bribe for the gatekeeper! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

Murray, Chamberlain and the aides are all laughing.

“But I have an esoteric interpretation to that,” Rev. Ike continues, quickly turning serious. “To me this means the person who is rich in the opinions of the world . . . and (that person is) so opinionated, and so programmed, by negative religion and the negative opinions of the world.”

The Rolls is heading down Interstate 8 toward San Diego State University, where Rev. Ike is scheduled to talk in a conference sponsored by the Associated Students. The driver is a big man, and you wonder if he also serves as a bodyguard. Rev. Ike says he is a “crusade engineer.” As for security provisions, “the organization takes care of that, and I’m not always aware of what they’ve done.”

“I’ll show you something.” Rev. Ike reaches down and pats his leg, just above the ankle. There is something hidden beneath the leg of his pants. A holster with a gun?

“I won’t tell you what it is, because that would be a breech of security,” he says. “But I will tell you that at the store where I bought these shoes, the salesman who helped me later called police and told them there was an armed man in the store.”

Moments later, Rev. Ike says it isn’t a gun. But he still won’t say what it is.

After stopping at the gate, the two Rollses swing onto the campus. Most students offer only a cool glance and keep walking, as if this is an everyday occurrence. One tall, thin black man in a natty gray suit stops and stares, breaking into a smile.

Rev. Ike is out of the car and the tall man walks over and introduces himself as Anthony X. He is better known to Aztec basketball fans as Anthony Sands, a guard-forward. He is a Black Muslim, he explains, a follower of the teachings of Louis Farrakhan.

Still, he wants to meet Rev. Ike.

And so does 81-year-old Ted McNeil, who introduces himself as the oldest student at San Diego State.

Anthony X and McNeil are among the 60 or so listeners when Rev. Ike gives an informal talk in the conference room. Rev. Ike points to McNeil as a source of inspiration that all students can listen to.

This is a tougher audience than those who pay for seminars. There are some avowed fans, but most just seem to be curious. Still, it is a friendly group. Rev. Ike offers his mix of think-positive rhetoric and sure-fire one-liners. Midway through the talk, X is asked for his opinion so far. “He’s pretty good,” X says with a nod.

But later, when Rev. Ike asks for questions, X is his toughest interrogator. X is intense, arguing that black children must be fully educated and understand about slavery and injustices they have suffered at the hands of whites.

“We must not use blackness or whiteness or polka dot-ness as a cop-out,” Rev. Ike responds.

Before long, Rev. Ike is asked: “What is the role of money in your organization?”

Rev. Ike lights up, ready with one of those sure-fire lines.

“Brother, if I didn’t have money, I wouldn’t roll at all! Ha ha ha ha ha.” Everyone is laughing.

“Not even my Rolls rolls without money! Ha ha ha ha ha.”

And as the laugh dies down, Rev. Ike adds:

“Nothing rolls without money.”